As soon as protagonist Jess changes from her travelling clothes into white commune overalls, you know it’s an impractical decision. Sure enough, a little later the pristine linen has been spattered with mud and blood stains that no detergent will shift, and she’s jogging barefoot through forests and mines doing who knows what damage to her soles. It’s hard not to feel her pain, or her shivering cold when a storm draws in. But you also can’t help wondering why she doesn’t return to her original outfit, or at least put her shoes on again, during the frequent visits to base camp.

Such stretches of logic matter little in isolation, of course, but in The Chant they nag, compounding issues in an already unconvincing narrative. While the middling production values in this survival horror work diligently to conjure a spooky atmosphere, stilted scripting and plot direction ensure an absence of genuine drama. The introduction of the game’s malignant presence is a case in point. Jess arrives on Glory Island to a share a weekend retreat with five ‘prismic science’ enthusiasts, one of whom, her friend Kim, has persuaded her that their brand of new-age spiritualism is just what she needs to forget her troubles. Despite her scepticism, and the offputting intensity of group leader Tyler, Jess gamely dons the uniform. Then the gang gathers for a magic-mushroom-fuelled omming session, and in the blink of an eye Kim starts ranting and runs off into the woods, and the hippie haven turns into Resident Evil.